The guard still with a man over his shoulder shouted something to the other, and put his head down, picking up speed. The unburdened man turned and rushed back to his fallen comrade.
A sudden flap of leathery wings was the only warning before the head of the hapless guard flew free of his body, rolling across the boardwalk. Kadie screamed. Before blood even began to spurt from the wound, the wind demon gave a shriek and launched skyward, hauling the dead man’s body into the air.
The laden guard passed the wards, hauling his charge to safety. Leesha looked back to the remaining man, struggling to rise, and her brow set.
“Leesha, no!” Jizell cried, grabbing at her, but Leesha stepped nimbly aside and bolted out onto the boardwalk.
She ran in sharp zigzag as the shrieks of wind demons rang out in the cold air above. One coreling attempted a dive attack anyway and missed her completely, if only by a few inches. It tumbled into the boardwalk with a crash, but quickly righted itself, its thick hide unharmed by the impact. Leesha spun away, hurling a fistful of Bruna’s blinding powder into its eyes. The creature roared in pain, and Leesha ran on.
“Save him, not me!” the guard called as she drew near, pointing to the still form lying on the boardwalk. The guard’s ankle was at an odd angle, clearly broken. Leesha glanced at the other form, prone on the boardwalk. She could not carry them both.
“Not me!” the guard called again as she drew close.
Leesha shook her head. “I’ve a better chance of getting you to safety,” she said, in a tone that brooked no debate. She got under his arm and heaved.
“Keep low,” the guard gasped. “Windies are less apt to dive at things low to the ground.”
She hunched as much as she could, staggering under the big man’s weight, and knew they were not going to make it at the shuffling pace, low or not.
“Now!” Jizell cried, and Leesha looked up to see Kadie and the other apprentices run out onto the boardwalk, holding the edges of white sheets above their heads. The fluttering cloth was almost everywhere, making it impossible for the wind demons to pick a target.
Under this cover, Mistress Jizell and the first guard came rushing up to them. Jizell helped Leesha as the guard fetched the unconscious man. Fear gave them all strength, and they covered the remaining distance quickly, retreating into the hospit and barring the door.
“This one’s dead,” Jizell said, her voice cold. “I’d wager he’s been gone over an hour.”
“I almost sacrificed myself for a dead man?” the guard with the broken ankle exclaimed. Leesha ignored him, moving over to the other injured man.
With his round, freckled face and slender form, he seemed more a boy than a man. He had been badly beaten, but he was breathing, and his heart was strong. Leesha inspected him swiftly, cutting away his bright patchwork clothes as she probed for broken bones and searched for the sources of the blood that soaked his motley.
“What happened?” Jizell asked the injured guard, as she inspected the break in his ankle.
“We were headin’ in from last patrol,” the guard said through gritted teeth. “Found these two, Jongleurs by their look, lyin’ on the walk. Must’a been robbed after a show. They was both alive, but in a bad way. It was dark by then, but neither of them looked like they’d last the night without a Gatherer to tend them. I remembered this hospit, and we ran hard as we could, tryin’ to stay under eaves, outta sight from windies.”
Jizell nodded. “You did the right thing,” she said.
“Tell that to poor Jonsin,” the guard said. “Creator, what will I tell his wife?”
“That’s a worry for the morrow,” Jizell said, lifting a flask to the man’s lips. “Drink this.”
The guard looked at her dubiously. “What is it?” he asked.
“It will put you to sleep,” Jizell said. “I need to set your ankle, and I promise you, you don’t want to be awake when I do.”
The guard quaffed the potion quickly.
Leesha was cleaning out the younger one’s wounds when he started awake with a gasp, sitting up. One of his eyes was swollen shut, but the other was a bright green, and darted about wildly. “Jaycob!” he cried.
He thrashed wildly, and it took Leesha, Kadie, and the last guard to wrestle him back down. He turned his one piercing eye on Leesha. “Where is Jaycob?” he asked. “Is he all right?”
“The older man who was found with you?” Leesha asked, and he nodded.
Leesha hesitated, picking her words, but the pause was answer enough, and he screamed, thrashing again. The guard pinned him hard, looking him in the eyes.
“Did you see who did this to you?” he asked.
“He’s in no condition …” Leesha began, but the man cut her off with a glare.
“I lost a man tonight,” he said. “I don’t have time to wait.” He turned back to the boy. “Well?” he asked.
The boy looked at him with eyes filling with tears. Finally, he shook his head, but the guard didn’t let up. “You must have seen something,” he pressed.
“That’s enough,” Leesha said, grabbing the man’s wrists and pulling hard. He resisted for a moment, and then let go. “Wait in the other room,” she ordered. He scowled, but complied.
The boy was weeping openly when Leesha turned back to him. “Just put me back out into the night,” he said, holding up a crippled hand. “I was meant to die a long time ago, and everyone that tries to save me ends up dead.”
Leesha took the crippled hand in hers and looked him in the eye. “I’ll take my chances,” she said, squeezing. “We survivors have to look out for one another.” She put the flask of sleeping draught to his lips, and held his hand, lending him strength until his eyes slipped closed.
The sound of fiddling filled the hospit. Patients clapped their hands, and the apprentices danced as they went about their tasks. Even Leesha and Jizell had a spring in their step.
“To think young Rojer was worried he had no way to pay,” Jizell said as they prepared lunch. “I’ve half a mind to pay him to come entertain the patients after he’s back on his feet.”
“The patients and the girls love him,” Leesha agreed.
“I’ve seen you dancing when you think no one is looking,” Jizell said.
Leesha smiled. When he wasn’t fiddling, Rojer spun tales that had the apprentices clustered at the foot of his bed, or taught them makeup tricks he claimed came from the duke’s own courtesans. Jizell mothered him constantly, and the apprentices all shined and doted on him.
“An extra-thick slice of beef for him, then,” Leesha said, cutting the meat and laying it on a platter already overladen with potatoes and fruit.
Jizell shook her head. “I don’t know where that boy puts it,” she said. “You and the others have been stuffing him for a full moon and more, and he’s still thin as a reed.”
“Lunch!” she bellowed, and the girls filtered in to collect the trays. Roni moved directly for the overladen one, but Leesha swept it out of reach. “I’ll take this one myself,” she said, smiling at the looks of disappointment around the kitchen.
“Rojer needs to take a break and eat something, not spin private tales while you girls cut his meat,” Jizell said. “You can all fawn on him later.”
“Intermission!” Leesha called as she swept into the room, but she needn’t have bothered. The bow slipped from the fiddle strings with a squeak the moment she appeared. Rojer smiled and waved, knocking over a wooden cup as he tried to set his fiddle aside. His broken fingers and arm had mended neatly, but his leg casts were still on strings, and he could not easily reach the bedstand.